


Hari Raya

by NyeehhhSure



Category: BoBoiBoy (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Light Angst, Memories, Reflection, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:40:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24389047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyeehhhSure/pseuds/NyeehhhSure
Summary: As the day of Raya arrives, two heroes across generations reflect on how differently their days are spent. They both come to their own realizations in the absence of the other's presence.
Relationships: Amato/His Wife
Kudos: 10





	1. BoBoiBoy

BoBoiBoy finally puts the phone down at his seventh attempt. 

Something about the motion makes the older man beside him still in his movements. He was known as an observer, after all; trained by his years of maintaining a steady flow of customers to his cocoa shop. It had become a sixth sense of his to know when someone was displeased with their situation, or in harsher circumstances, burdened with a silent weight laid across their chest that could only be relieved by means of conversation. 

But BoBoiBoy already knew by then— Tok Aba had sensed the hurt in his eyes. 

His heart had been racing just moments prior, right when he was told that he had a chance to call. Chances like those were precious treasures to him, like slivers of light through the cracks of a dark tunnel. The boy had sworn it onto himself to make the most of them ever since he moved to Pulau Rintis, unashamed to drop whatever he had been doing up to that point to focus on the opportunity he had. 

And why wouldn’t he? 

It was the only real way he could talk to his father. A man of courage and integrity. The one who single-handedly raised him from birth, sparked his love for astronomy, and taught him to root himself on his virtues as a human being. 

The one who taught him to fight for the goodness in the world. 

They were the very reason that he was allowed to move away from home. They saw his potential as a hero that day. They believed in him, and his on-going pursuit as earth’s defender, no matter how far away it took him from the comfort of their household. With his solidified obligation to the intergalactic organization, however, the frequency of those chances to reconnect dwindled. It came to the point that he had nearly forgotten the last time he heard the other’s voice, his mind busied with the demands of his role as a hero. It’s been a few years- he thinks, noting how his last fond memory of the parent had been receiving that postcard, and even then it wasn’t in spoken words.

But it was the day of Raya. A day he had to finally focus on those closest to him. To not worry about innocent lives being endangered by a cosmic entity or power-hungry aliens, and rather, celebrate being together with his loved ones. His heart nearly leapt out when Tok Aba first passed him the house phone and he let himself ride on that wave of exhilaration; each ring, each tap of buttons being a reminder of how he’s mere seconds away from hearing back after years of silence. 

That very same heart of his eventually dulled down into a slow beat— its pace only rivaled by the monotonous dial tone that rang at the other end. 

There’s a warmth against his shoulder. A familiar feeling; a gesture the both of them had shared since the day they met in person. It made BoBoiBoy feel safe, even as he had to face the other’s eyes in a knowing stare moments after, his feelings left out in the open for them to see. 

“Maybe next time.”

He finds it in himself to smile. Tok Aba was a gentle soul, always wanting what was best for him and looking after him even in his most vulnerable moments. There was a lightness in the man’s tone just then, almost on the edge of being cautious, because even he knew that the younger boy was tired of hearing that same phrase with each passing year. 

Next time. 

Part of him wasn’t that surprised, really. 

He first felt the distance when their calls only lasted around five minutes. Barely enough time to catch up with everything, let alone feel the palpability of each other’s presence. A phone call could only do so much to connect people with one another, and by the end of the day, all that a person could hold onto would be the sound of another’s voice by the end of a line. 

Soon those five minutes turned into three, then into two, and that’s when BoBoiBoy started to notice how the other’s excuses matched a pattern. In those calls they’d listen to the boy ever-so-eagerly ramble about his life in Pulau Rintis and the small moments of heroism he’d have in the neighborhood - and just as the boy decides to flip it over and ask about how the other was doing, they’d slip in a quick apology between them before explaining that they had to go. It was always a matter of them being taken away so suddenly because of work, or piled over with responsibilities that they rarely had time to themselves. 

BoBoiBoy never knew what exactly his father’s job was; only that it took him away from him. 

But he had already matured past the point of complaining about his father’s dedication to his work. He still held that sense of trust in him when he would bring up how vital his position was as a worker, and how his efforts supposedly keep a sense of balance in the world they live in. The boy had admitted how vague it sounded to himself time and time again, and yet he couldn’t find the will in him to question further. That practice of respect mattered to him above his personal curiosities. 

The other part of him couldn’t help but hope that things would be different. 

It had only been a few months since his last major mission and it’s something he has yet to fully recover from. It was still surreal for him to think about how he had been on the edge of losing his powers completely, and that the galaxy as he knew it would've been doomed if it weren’t for his and his friends’ efforts. He had risked his life for the wellbeing of so many living beings and had come up successful, though a bit beaten. 

What he would give to be able to tell someone like his very own father that; to say that he had fulfilled a part of his role as a hero.

To say that he did it. 

He saved everyone. 

It’s only when he decides to let go of the phone that he realizes he had been holding onto it for the past few minutes. Its surface had been imprinted with the marks from his fingers, visible enough for him to think about how tightly he had been holding onto the thing. He feels Tok Aba get up from his place not long after, his words floating across the air between them. 

“Come now, I’ll need some help in preparing the dish we’re bringing to Papa Zola’s family.” 

For a moment, he wonders why he keeps trying. 

He’s already built a strong familial relationship with his grandfather. Their bond had grown to the point that the thought of reuniting with him every after mission was enough to move him to tears every time. His heart still ached at the memory of having to be away from him during last year’s Raya, something that - despite the older man’s reassurance to - he still wishes to make up for. 

He’s already built an unbreakable bond with his friends. Friends who had been with him ever since the beginning of his superhero journey; who gave him that sense of hope and strength whenever things looked bleak. It was thanks to them that he had been able to gain a crucial advantage over their last enemy, and without them, the galaxy wouldn’t have been saved. 

He’s already grown to love and be loved by all these people around him, beyond anything he could’ve asked for. 

So why does he keep trying? 

His eyes wander to the older man’s figure as he disappears off into the next room. He’s noticed since long before that Tok Aba’s speed had been degrading with age, but it never seemed to stop him from attending to duties or doing what he had to for the sake of those he cared for. The sight momentarily reminded BoBoiBoy of when he first woke up from his fusion-induced coma; when the elder had nearly sprinted towards his bed in order to envelop him in a hug. 

The way the warmth had welcomed him back into the waking world, accompanied only with the other’s tear-stained eyes as he mumbled about how proud he was of the boy. 

Maybe that was it. 

Maybe all he wanted was to know if his dad was proud of him too. 

But it’s in that silent reminiscing that BoBoiBoy realizes something else; why he had been able to keep going all this time, even without the reassurance nor closure from his father. 

It was because of them.

Tok Aba, Ochobot, Yaya, Ying, Gopal, Fang - all the ones he had met in this journey who had, in one way or the other, played a role in his life. All this time he had been comforted with the knowledge that they love him, without realizing that it was in that very affection that the love he had for his father was paralleled. 

It was in the way he felt at home with his grandfather. 

The way Ochobot is always there for him. 

The way his friends make him laugh and feel secure no matter where they are. 

The way he had grown to be the hero the galaxy needs. 

And none of it would’ve happened if his father didn’t let him go all those years ago. 

This was his sign of love. Not in rushed phone calls or dusty postcards, but in how he had let him go. 

And as he heard his name being called out from the kitchen, BoBoiBoy knew that it was about time that he did the same.

He can go another Raya without him.


	2. Amato

“Am I a terrible person?”

“If you consider ignoring the seven plus calls your only son just sent you as being ‘terrible’, then yes.”

The answer makes Amato genuinely contemplate ordering the power sphera to deactivate for a moment - until he remembers that his every move was being monitored by no less than three cameras hidden within the room. The action would have translated to his supervisors, who had no means of accessing the audio to go along with the footage, as a sign of resignation. 

He instead opts to look down to the blue lights across his chest, the defeat laced in his voice. 

“You know, for a moment there, I thought you were actually going to say something reassuring.” 

All that earns him is a pleased grunt from the other before the two of them return to their duties in silent agreement. Distracting himself was usually easy in a time like this. There was always another emergency alert, or an unidentifiable entity just barely scraping the border of their patrol area. Something, anything to take up his attention, even just for a few minutes. That way he’d have the excuse to tune out everything else stirring at his mind. But it had been awfully quiet deep within his shift, almost coming off to him as ironic as it was the one day he had hoped to not be faced with his own feelings in the emptiness of his chamber. 

He was at least thankful to know that Mechabot was in his suit mode. That made it easier to convince himself that the ache was coming from the continuous pressure of metal against his chest, and nothing more. 

The last few minutes had been the worst. Whenever that specific alert would flash across his screen, he would reflexively look towards an opposite one, internally reciting whatever on-screen settings were legible to him from a distance. It was a dull practice, but one he had to quickly get used to with how the alert continued to repeat in an apparent interval, tearing at his mind with its prominence. Towards the last round he had to shut his eyes entirely, nearly startling his companion with how they had detected a spike in his heart rate. Mechabot knew better than to question his master about it though, as he knew just as much as the other did about what it meant. 

The alert traced all the way back to earth; to Amato’s property, more specifically - echoing the rings of an unanswered house telephone. 

The power sphera couldn’t blame him. His memory base still retained that vivid image of the pure excitement the other had on his face when they first got the connection set up years ago. It was an extension to an already existing communication service; a work of their combined knowledge in alien technology and engineering. He remembers how the other had jumped up and down and tripped over a nearby wire in the process of celebrating his success, the way he shakily dialed a number that seemed nothing less than muscle memory to him - even the first ever test-call that nearly made Aba deaf from how his son practically shouted into the microphone. They had ended up calling at the late hours of the morning due to their time differences, but that never seemed to stop the other. Amato was still a kid at heart, after all, and in that moment, he looked paralleled to his younger self; an overly excited kid with the brightest of eyes for those close to him. 

Something that he does often forget, however, would be the gravity of his master’s position now as an adult. He remembers the poor kid’s face dropping into one of horror as a warning signal sounded off from the panel beside them, messages from their supervisors and commanders flooding the screen, all telling them to shut the connection off. They would later find out that if the call went on any longer, the more information would’ve been sent over through space, inadvertently mapping out the exact coordinates of both locations. If they hadn’t stopped them then, not only would their base be compromised, but so would the very house that the hero’s family lived in. 

The last thing Amato wanted was to fail them. 

That discovery led them to where they were now, with calls still allowed to be made within the limit of a few minutes. From there, he had noticed how the other had only called for the sake of keeping his sanity intact; to simply hear the voice of his loved ones even if they talked about the most trivial of things, the very liveliness in their voices alone helping to ground him back into reality as signaled by the steadiness of his breathing. It was the vital signs like those that told Mechabot that his master was going to be okay, even in the most dire of times. 

But everyone has a limit, and despite the earlier snark in his tone, the power sphera could feel him slipping. 

All because they had to call on this day. 

“How do you think he looks now?”

Mechabot’s eyes readjust for a second, signalled for attention. The calls had stopped moments ago, leaving the both of them back into their familiar sanctuary of quiet whenever conversations were exhausted. His years spent with the other had taught him to catch wind of things that weren’t told through regular charts and digital scans, such as the uneasiness that remained in the air from their earlier exchange. Though in fairness to his programming, he could’ve also deduced that from the light twitches in Amato’s fingers as they held up a small parchment at arms-reach. 

It was that photograph again. When the senior hero had waved the younger boy goodbye as he boarded the one-way train to Pulau Rintis; one of the two photos Amato had taken with him to remind him of his lifelong mission. 

The last time he’s ever seen his son in person. 

“No matter how he looks, I just hope he decides to shave when he’s older. That beard does nothing for you on the battlefield.” 

The power sphera finds himself grinning by the end of his sentence. Part of him had hoped that a good banter would’ve lifted the other’s spirits. It’s how their relationship had worked for the longest time; their shared need to one-up another, even in simple conversation, giving them reason to grow closer as partners and bring them to that point that no secrets could be withheld from between them.

And even when silence was what Mechabot got in response, he steadied with the assurance that his partner was comfortable with him enough not to act upon it. 

Amato sat still in his position, eyeing the photograph in front of him with an intensity that the power sphera had only seen back when they were first called on their mission. A look of certainty and determination towards whatever goal laid ahead of them, no matter the cost. It was only after he had dragged a finger across its matted surface, wiping off a light coat of dust off in the process, that the man finally leaned back in his place on the metal chair. 

“Aba was right.”

That comes out at the end of a breathy laugh, the man’s eyes shut with a mirth that could only follow a realization that drew him close to tears. 

“He has his mother’s eyes.” 

From the first time he had been able to hold him just minutes after his wife’s passing, Amato loved his son. 

All of his distress, all of the pain that had accumulated within him when he first heard the news out of the delivery room, suddenly felt a lot less paralyzing as he received the child in his arms. He was still grief-stricken, nearly blinded from the redness of his eyes from his previous outburst, but as they laid across the boy below, he couldn’t help but beam with a growing warmth inside of him. That was the power his son had long before he had even met his own power sphera. The power of bringing back hope, a reason for him to go on, a will to dedicate every moment of his life into protecting those he loved and ensuring that his son grew up as strong as he could be.

And for the longest time, he had wondered how. How someone, especially as young as they were, could give a person that reason to keep going, and all it took for him to realize why was the solitude of a space chamber. 

BoBoiBoy was a living memory of her. 

Perhaps that was why he’s always tried to justify his decision of letting him go. His son needed to be strong. He needed to have his own journey, learn from his own mistakes, see the goodness in people through firsthand experience. He needed to be able to grow even without the presence of his father, who was always taken away by his obligation as a hero in the process of making the galaxy a better place for his son. But above all else, he needed to ready himself for the cruelty of the world that could take him at any moment, because if the years of risking his life and battling otherworldly forces have taught Amato anything, it's that you can never truly be prepared for what could come your way. 

But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss him.

It didn’t mean that he wanted to stay light years apart from him. It didn’t mean that he wanted to disregard him entirely, to ignore the hundreds upon hundreds of messages the boy had tried sending him over the years. 

And it definitely didn’t mean that he wanted to miss another Raya with him. 

But he had to. Despite everything he yearned for; the sight of his son after years of not seeing him, the sound of his laughter as they pretended to be superheroes in their backyard, the warmth of his arms around his waist because of how it was all he could reach at his age - he had to keep away. 

Because it would take more than a hundred messages and the few precious minutes of a phone call to make up for everything he had done. 

“He’s going to be alright.” 

Amato had nearly forgotten that Mechabot was taking part in his sorrows until he had spoken up, himself jolting a bit from the suddenness of his distorted voice. But he soon relaxes to the sight of the power sphera outright refusing to make eye contact with him, especially after making a comment that wasn’t anything like the reassurance he’s had before. 

The sentiment makes him chuckle a bit before bringing a hand close to wipe the dampness off his face. 

“Now that’s an improvement.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally posted on my Twitter - @NyeehhhSure, for those who are curious- as two separate fics in celebration of the holiday and for the sake of some closure on the way BoBoiBoy and Amato's relationship works. I had a lot of fun with this, despite how sad the two works ended up being in the end. XD


End file.
